Location: Chicago Opera Theater, adjacent to Millennium Park
Type of Bread: Sketchy sourdough from BJ
Remember how last time I said toast was the food of the proletariat? Well, it is also the food of the bourgeoisie, because nothing goes better with opera than freshly-toasted bread. I bought an opera subscription (because I'm super classy), so I was downtown to see the last show in the season, "Three Decembers". But I'm not going to talk about it because you don't read this to hear me talk about opera, you read it to hear me talk about toasters.
Our story begins in Millennium Park. I thought it would be nice to get a picture with the toaster in front of the bean. As soon as my backpack was unzipped, a guy came up to me and started taking pictures of my struggle to get it out. I asked him to take my picture, and he was kind enough to do so. Afterward we had this conversation:
Guy: So, what is this all about?
Me: My friends and I bought this toaster, and now we carry it around and take pictures with it.
Guy: Ah, like a garden gnome?
He was a pretty chill dude.
Emboldened by my interaction with the chill dude, I walked around Millennium Park holding my toaster. I asked a Segway Cop if she knew where I could find an outlet. She replied "No, and definitely not for that." She was less amused than the chill dude.
Then I went into the opera house. I went an hour early to avoid crowds (I don't want to create a scene, I just want to make toast!). I quickly found an outlet, plugged in the toaster, and threw in the bread. Then I realized what I was doing, and I was simultaneously terrified and overjoyed. Here are some pictures I took of the crime:
Notice how the toaster is hanging by the plug.
I even put bread in it!
This is where I made toast about a half hour after I was caught. I took this to prove I didn't just make toast in some random corner.
Here is the story of how I got caught: I was pretty flustered, so I was pacing around just outside of the doorway where the toaster was cooking me some sweet, sweet toast. A security guard saw me, looking insanely suspicious, and we had this conversation:
Me: How are you?
Guard: Good, you?
Me: Fine... just making toast.
Guard: Uh... *slowly walks toward me until he can see the toaster* No, no, no, no. You can't do that in here.
For encountering a crazy person trying to make toast in an opera theater, I think he handled it pretty well.